I know, I know. How arrogant could this Chicago mook be to call Wausau a spoke on the almighty hub of Chicago’s wheel?
I promise, it has nothing to do with heirarchy. Nada. Bupkiss. It is simply an expression of my geographical frame of reference—that internal sense of centering and place that acts like a psychic compass, not unlike the internal clock that nudges certain people from sleep or tells others they need to procreate before it’s too late.
Now, I wouldn’t even refer to myself as a Mook, thank you very much, but I will always identify myself as a Chicagoan, even if I move to Detroit or Providence or Vienna or Belfast.
To those of you who come back to read whatever it is I happen to be working through on any given day of the week, and to any of you who have found this post in an angry quest for the author of this strange blog to open a can of you know what—please, please move forward with the knowledge that though I frequently identify myself as a Chicagoan and may or may not sound flippant in my renderings of Wausau and the state of Wisconsin, I live here, indefinitely and gratefully. I fully embrace the advantages of living here over living in Chicago, and truly enjoy working and playing here with all the great people I’ve come to know over the span of two years and running.
With that, thanks for reading and I hope to offer something to enrich your day once in while. Just be sure to watch your back if you’ve made a monkey face at someone with Illinois plates recently.
oldwoodchair
10:24 pm on September 19th
mrichards: I would never make a monkey face because, as my mom told me, my face may then stay that way. Besides…I love Chicago ’cause it’s that toddlin’ town.
Welcome to Wausau and Cw, mrichards….glad to have you here “up nort”.
olw
Cheryl Mathis
5:38 am on September 21st
Welcome to CW. I make monkey faces at Illinois plates all the time. I admit it. Mostly because I don’t understand why people need to drive so fast.
mrichards
12:49 pm on September 21st
Cheryl, When you’ve spent your life expecting a ten-mile ride to take an hour, there’s a compulsion to exploit an open road because the unconscious feeling is that it’s going to get clogged up any second. The monkey faces I would from time to time — when I was going the speed limit, by the way — only served to make me wonder why there were so many mentally disabled people allowed to drive up here.
Tom Neal
5:11 am on September 22nd
oops, m … your first response and you already make a “mentally disabled” reference to your northern neighbors? Ouch. “Exploiting the open road” or “going the speed limit” … are you a bit erratic? Did some people give you the eye because of this? Or maybe they liked your car or thought you were hot? Or maybe this happened twice and you have a “there are so many” generalization brewing based on that? I’m going to keep an eye on you, bucko!
Response:
Ha, ha. Hi Tom. I knew I’d get at least one of these, so congratulations on being number one. Release the confetti! Couldn’t resist, Tom—all in good fun. Remember that I’m not talking about neighbors to the north, just neighbors. I’m not a journalist here, just an observer. I could easily comment on the criminally insane crawling all over my old neighborhood in the city—which by sight alone wouldn’t be challenged much—but the actual numbers likely wouldn’t amount to a fraction of one percent. I don’t believe there are people who do not make generalizations as they crawl through the experiences of daily living, and I am no different than the rest of humanity in that regard. I concede, you won’t get much by way of political correctness from me, but likewise, you will never get malice either. It’s not in my nature. As for people on the road or sides of the road making faces, who may or may not of thought I was hot, I have to remain silent on that one. Thanks, Tom.
Billie
7:37 am on September 22nd
Welcome! I am starting to understand the culture shock that comes with a move from Chicago to this area, as I live with an Oak Park native, and am eager to hear more from you.
I share grinningsoul’s fear of city driving – Chicago kills me! I would do nearly anything to avoid driving any closer than Belvedere!
Response:
I routinely whipped a Land Rover Discovery into parallel parking spots most people could barely get a VW Jetta into and I gave airport rides to celebrities in Lincoln Town Cars for extra cash at one point; so I would emphatically agree that driving in the city is an enduring pain supreme, but I didn’t fear it. I am amazed how quickly I became a driving brat up here. For the first three months, I would go home for lunch almost daily. It only took seven minutes to get from the driveway to the parking lot outside the office. In the city, it took seven minutes to get out of the parking spot and to the corner. Inevitably here in Wausau, I found myself saying, “I can’t take the time to go home for lunch because the round trip cuts to much out of the lunch hour.” When presented with the need for a particular houseware, I once even uttered, “Aaaaaall the way to Target?” Poor baby. How soon I forget.